Harry and Dmitri
by Tsuki-Lolita
Summary: A Pureblood orphan with "blood-traitors" as biological parents, is adopted by the Dursleys prior to the birth of their own son. He attends Durmstrang in order to avoid being exposed as a wizard to his muggle family.
1. Chapters 1 through 5

My name is Dmitri Dursley. My brother, Dudley, is one year and four months younger than I and this winter will mark the 12th year of my birth. I say he's my brother but really he isn't. His parent's adopted me shortly after Vernon's doctor told him he had a low sperm count and the probability of having a child was extremely low. Of course, shortly after the adoption, Petunia wound up pregnant. Shocking.

Anyway, my real parents, before they died, were Purebloods. That's right, I'm a Pureblood wizard growing up in a magic-loathing, muggle home. The only reason I ended up in a muggle orphanage is that my parents were what most Purebloods call "blood traitors." I try not to live up to that title. No one at school knows I live here, and no one here knows I'm a wizard.

I do not attend Hogwarts by the way. Both of my biological parents were Durmstrang graduates, and although they fled Russia and the wizarding world, I was still admitted there. This is why I won't let anyone at Durmstrang know where I live. I have a family reputation to live down.

This arrangement seems strange, doesn't it? How do I keep my "family" from knowing where I am 5/6 of the year? It's rather simple actually. They are ridiculously naive. They easily believed the forged letters I sent them. They think my excellent grades have won me the honor to attend a private academy in Russia. It isn't a complete lie. I do maintain extraordinarily high grades and Durmstrang is both private and in Russia.

The only problem I have with Durmstrang is how secretive the students and staff are. We aren't supposed to reveal where the school is, what classes are taught, anything. It's a pity too, I would love to give Harry a few lessons. At the very least I could tutor him in the basics but it might jeopardize my standing with the family if they find out I'm a wizard.

Harry should receive his acceptance letter sometime next month. He'll go to Hogwarts without a doubt. I can't wait to take him to our world, where he truly belongs. For now I must content myself with what I have at hand. I know every school in Europe sends out acceptance letters on the same day, so Harry should get his exactly one week before his birthday. I have to be the one to get that letter. If he gets it, it'll be taken away before he can read it.

It would be wiser for me to explain everything to him rather than continue letting these people hold up their constructed lies. He deserves to know the truth, what he is, who his parents were and how they really died. Everything I know, and it feels strange that I and everyone in our world knows more about him than he does.

This family is completely demented. Everything has to be perfectly normal here, and yet "average" isn't acceptable. Living here is like walking a high-wire, constantly balancing myself between normalcy and perfection. Fortunately, perfection isn't difficult to achieve, not for me, not by their standards at least.

Durmstrang has a way of perfecting it's students. Discipline is the first thing everyone learns. The uniform and rules regarding attire are so strict that we are forced to redefine ourselves and our personalities and show it without using clothing or accessories. They tear us down and then help us build ourselves up.

Two days in the muggle world and I already miss school. The structure of it, not so much the classes. Everything is scheduled and focused towards improvement. I'm twelve years old, speak fluent Russian and English, and have the body of a young Adonis. My only fault is my vanity.

This world is strange to me. I've lived here eleven years and it only took ten months for me to feel out of place here. An outcast. I may be accepted as a normal member of this normal family but I feel like a sham, a fraud. Harry suffers everyday and doesn't know why. He's more normal than these people will ever be. He needs to get out while he can; they're going to destroy him. Vernon is prone to violence and I worry the abuse he dishes out will increase once Harry starts studying magic.

It's now 5:47AM. Today is Dudley's 11th birthday. I can't stand waiting around for everyone to wake up. If this dysfunctional family had to live by Durmstrang's schedule, we would all be running laps around the house right now. Then breakfast; oh breakfast, sweet nourishment, life-enabler.

Sadly, I must be content with push-ups and weight lifting, anything that doesn't make too much noise while those lazy bastards sleep the glorious early morning away. Eight more minutes. Dudley will come rampaging down the stairs like the elephant he is. I can't understand how his mother can stand by and watch as her son grows to gargantuan proportions and then buys him a whole carton of ice cream to devour by himself. If it were just Vernon, maybe I could follow the thought process, he's a big guy too, but this is just ridiculous.

The door hinges across the hall creak, light footsteps down the stairs. Petunia, she made Dudley's cake last night; it still has to be decorated. "Up! Get up!" Her shrill voice and sharp knuckles rapping on the cupboard door are nauseating. Vernon's up at last, when their bedroom door is open, I can hear everything. I'm so glad they keep it closed at night. The mental scarring could send me to St Mungo's. He's downstairs now. I want to stay in this room as long as possible. The less time I spend with them, the better.

"Wake up Potter! We're going to the zoo!" That child. He doesn't even realize the structural damage he's doing to the house. Wait, _we_? They never take Harry anywhere. I wonder if Mrs. Figg is alright. She always takes care of him while they're away.

I have to go down there sometime, no time like the present and all those other clichés. I smell toast, bacon, eggs, and a lovely Indian roast coffee. I could go for a good cup of coffee.

The drive was nothing extraordinary, if only it had been faster. The less time spent with these people the better. Between myself, Dudley, his friend Piers, and Harry all in the back seat, it's a wonder we made it without Dudders complaining about how cramped he was. Too excited I guess.

I could think of many better ways to spend my day than at a zoo watching docile animals in captivity. Wild animals don't belong here. They aren't living, not the way they should be. This place is a prison for innocent creatures. They're suffering and no one notices.

"Make it move." Dudley's complaining about a snake to his father. For goodness sakes, it's a living being not a toy. We're in the reptile house. What part of 'Do Not Tap Glass' can these beasts not understand? Honestly, they should be the ones in cages.

"MOVE!" Vernon is the worst of them, at the moment. Dudley will be worse as an adult. Something must be done about these people. If it weren't illegal, I would love to cast a cruciatus on them. For all the torment they cause everyone, human or otherwise, they deserve it and worse. Don't get me wrong, just because I'm a Pureblood and they are muggles doesn't mean I want them to suffer on that principal alone. I judge people as individuals on their actions, not collectively as either wizard or muggle.

I'm jarred from my thoughts by a low hissing sound, but it's too clear to be coming from one of the snakes behind their glass-walled worlds.

What is that sound? I have to find tha...Oh. I see. Harry's a parslemouth. That's interesting. Such a rare talent, and he won't comprehend the gift he has until he has the resources to find out what he is. He has me, true, but while the muggles are around I can't tell him anything, and the rest of the year we'll be in different countries.

"Mummy! Dad! Come here, you won't believe what this snake is doing!" The snake moves and this obese, pathetic child thinks it's news worthy. Let's call Sky News and BBC, this is an event not to be missed! More importantly, he just pushed Harry to the ground and no one cares. Why must I be part of such a dreadful family?

Now that's interesting. The glass disappeared. Harry must have tapped into his magic accidentally then. Good, his powers are starting to show.

"You alright Harry?" I ask, standing over him.

"Yeah, just fine." There's a scowl on his face. His emotions are running high, that's why his magic was released: emotional overflow.

There have been other instances where his magic was evident, but this is one of the few greatly noticable examples. He just has to be trained properly. What a wonderful evening at home we'll have tonight. Just Petunia, Dudley and I downstairs watching the telly while Harry gets beaten within inches of his life in another room.

I wish I could interfere. I can't leave him alone with these awful muggles (much as I'd love to leave) and Dumbledoor won't take him away. "For his own protection" my arse. That letter is still here, hidden away in the attic. My guess is it was given to them when Harry was left here as a baby.

That's where I found it last year while moving some of my things out from my bedroom. Far too many secrets to keep up with in this house. It'll all blow up in there faces soon. Someone from the school will come for him when he isn't allowed to respond to the letters.

Any more of this and I very well may kill them. All they ever do is dote on me and Dudley or abuse and neglect Harry. It's always the same: we wake, Vernon goes to work, Petunia leaves to visit neighbors or shop, Dudley asks me to play with him and Piers at the park (DENIED), Harry tries to finish a ridiculously long list of chores, and I write upon roll after roll of parchment exactly what my professors want (i.e., thought not memorization).

After the zoo incident, the weeks passed by uneventfully. To the outside world, we were just a normal suburban family. But I know better.

Tomorrow Harry's acceptance letter arrives by owl. Nine more days and we're free. I wonder how he'll get his school supplies. I can't take him to Diagon Ally because my 'parents' will wonder how I know to get there and, even though they are incredibly thick headed, they may find out my secret. My letter to Durmstrang gave instructions to Kosoj Pereulok, the Russian equivalent of Diagon Alley. Maybe they'll do the same, but he doesn't have a wand yet so he won't be able to get in. The entrance to Kosoj Pereulok recognizes magical signatures, Diagon Alley requires a wand to tap it. Maybe they'll send someone to collect and help him find his way around. I've been there once or twice before, to browse the shops in Knockturn Alley.

I'm tired of sitting around waiting. Why can't mail travel faster? "Mum?"

"Yes sweetheart?" She's in the kitchen, making dinner, what a good little housewife she turned out to be. It's like living in the 1950s with her.

"I'm heading out for a bit, do you need me to get anything while I'm gone?" I can play the dutiful child while I have to, but the moment I can afford it, I'm out of this place for good.

"No dear, just be careful while you're out, don't talk to strangers, and be back before sunset. Such a sweet boy I have, my little boy is growing up so fast." I think she's going to cry. It's that maternal thing she has, even though I'm not really her child. She wants to baby me my whole life and doesn't get the chance because I'm away for so long. I pity her. An abusive husband and demanding child, parents she won't talk to anymore, a dead sister she never got along with. What a tragic life, and yet I can't say with any honesty that she didn't deserve it. She really did bring a lot of it upon herself.

I shut the door gently behind me. I'm going to catch a bus to London and get Harry a proper birthday present. Something special that he'll never forget. Something to let him know he isn't alone here. The best gifts for a young wizard can only be found in the wizarding world, so, Diagon Alley here I come.

My wand, since I've mentioned them, is 14 inches long, created from African Blackwood and has a core of Essence of Wolf Claw. The wood acts as a medium between the physical and spiritual realms, tapping into psychic and unbound energies. It's very useful for enchantments and illusions. Both are taught at Durmstrang, as elective courses. Every school is required to teach core classes: Astronomy, Charms, Defense, Herbology, Potions, History, and Transfiguration, but electives vary from school to school.

What should I get him? He's fairly intelligent, but I don't think a book will do him much use. He doesn't spend much time reading anyway. I don't understand why though, reading is wonderful, it can take your mind away to foreign lands, past and future eras, parallel universes or alternate dimensions. Oh well, he'll escape this place soon enough I suppose.

Candy. That's not a bad idea. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees, Jelly Slugs, Cockroach Clusters, Fudge Flies. He likes chocolate, dark chocolate especially. Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills. Quills, he will definitely need those when he gets to school, along with parchment and ink. Self-inking quills are useful.

I'm thinking all this while walking through Diagon Alley. About half way through, there's an entrance to Knockturn Alley. Dark artifacts and/or illegal items are sold in every shop there, I wonder if Harry would want anything from such a place. Perhaps a cursed item isn't the best way to introduce him to our world, never mind that then.

First, I have to stop at Gringotts. My biological parents left a large sum of money to me following their deaths. Gringotts has many branches, one in France, another in Germany. Four in the United States. Three in Russia, only one of which in Kosoj Pereulok. Fortunately, every branch is connected. I can access my account from virtually anywhere on this planet.

Laws regarding family names (or surnames) haven't changed in this world for centuries. In the muggle world, a person takes on the last name of the family that adopts them. In the wizarding world, a person keeps their birth name. So while I'm with the Dursley's my name is Dmitri Dursley, but here, I am still Dmitri Glebovich.

I think the government does this just so the people in office don't have the extra paperwork to deal with. Lazy.

Walking up the steps to Gringotts, the entrance towers over me. Any other person I'm sure would feel humbled, but not me. I am impressed at best and uninterested at worst. This place is nothing to me, just a storage bin for things. Money, books, heirlooms, jewels. It's all junk. Most of the belongings here have been forgotten by the very people who own them. I went through my vault the day after I found out about it. Dust covered everything.

I'm only here to collect a small number of coins. There's no need to carry a fortune with me when it's only going to be spent on sugary sweets and basic school supplies.

Goblins. Nagnok is at the farthest desk to the right. His brother works at Gringotts, Kosoj Pereulok. "Mr. Nagnok," he looks down from the high desk to me, "I wish to make a withdrawal." I pull a small brass key from the inner pocket of my coat. "Vault 1668."

He takes the key. "You must be Mr. Glebovich then, my brother told me about you." He grins. Goblins work at banks because they are greedy. Greedy but honest. They like making money. I'll be charged a small service fee since my account is in another country.

When I leave here, it's straight to Honeydukes, then Flourish and Blotts. There's a gift wrapping store a block or two down from there. I'll have everything wrapped up tight. The tricky part will be sneaking it into the house and getting it to Harry without anyone noticing.


	2. Chapters 6 through 10

I return home with almost ten minutes to spare. Vernon will be back just before dinner. Luckily Dudley decided to play with one of his friends at the park, but he'll be back soon. Petunia is in the kitchen. Has she even left that room since I've been gone? Surely she must have; I left four and a half hours ago. No matter, while she's preoccupied, I can find Harry.

He isn't in the cupboard. I'm glad he can spend some time out of that little storage area without being beaten. It's meant to be a storage area, and it still is. They stow him away like a vacuum or a broom. A house elf. It isn't fair. I'm the deceitful one, I'm the one plotting their deaths, I'm the one honing my magic. He's just an innocent child, and they treat him like he's unworthy of the air he breaths.

Found him. He's cleaning the bathroom mirror upstairs. He doesn't notice me in the doorway behind him. "Harry, I have something for you." He jumps, I'm not entirely surprised of his fear. Even if it is directed, wrongfully, towards me. "Come to my room when you're done here." As I turn to leave, I see him nod very slightly.

A car door slams shut outside. Vernon's back. Harry is leaning against the wall next to my bookshelf. The door is closed. There isn't a TV in here, just the bookshelf, a bed, and an oil painting of my real father that I discovered in my vault. I told Vernon and Petunia it was just something I found at a yard sale and it looked cool.

"I know it's a little early but," I pulled out the wrapped gifts I bought earlier today, "happy birthday." Disbelieving shock crosses his face, he reaches out a hand for the package and grasps it gently. It's the first present he's ever received.

The candy and quills are wrapped in bright green, holographic paper with gold ribbon knotted around it. Those are the colors of my house in Durmstrang. Nothing special about them really, except that I know his favorite color is green. "Thank you." He's always so quiet. Green eyes stare unsteadily at me.

"You can open it Harry, now if you want or you can wait. Whatever you decide though, don't let anyone know you have it."

"Can I- can I keep it in here for now? It's just that, they might see it if I go and I.." We will have to work on his sentence structure.

"Of course you can. I'll keep it under my bed okay?" He smiles, I mean really smiles, like this is the best day of his life. That's a depressing but true notion. Enough of that then, moving on!

Tomorrow the letter, then eight days until the new term starts. We can make it through that, and then while we're at school we can write one another. Owls aren't the fastest means of communication but they're more convenient than fire calling. I just have to persuade him between now and next summer not to tell our family that we're both wizards.

It's Friday morning and I have just woken. No one else is up yet. Slipping downstairs, I unlocked the bolted door of Harry's cupboard and stooped inside to wake him. I shook his shoulder and watched bemusedly as his bleary eyes adjusted to the light and he reached out a hand to search for his glasses.

"Get dressed then come downstairs for breakfast." I back out of the room and turn towards the kitchen. Eggs over easy, toast, strawberries and orange juice for the both of us. I'll make something for the pigs upstairs later. Today the letter arrives and his birthday is just two days away. I hear footsteps behind me, light and unobtrusive. "Dmitri, wh-"

"Sit down, we'll talk over breakfast." My tone isn't quite as nice as it had been last night. It's imperative that we talk about what's about to happen in his life. Damn, that sounds like I'm a parent lecturing him about puberty...anyway...Discovering you're a wizard doesn't happen every day, this has to go over well. I can't have him expose me as a wizard to these monsters. That threat is always sitting in the back of my mind, rising up more frequently lately than ever before. It must be from the stress of taking care of Harry and myself in their company these past two months.

Everything is set. We have half an hour before Vernon gets up and roughly one hour until the mail gets in. "Listen carefully Harry. I'm only going to explain this once. Understand that anything I tell you today must be kept strictly between the two of us otherwise I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more."

I paused, waiting for a response. He bowed his head, "I won't tell anyone, I promise." Always so quiet Harry, that's another personality trait we'll have to work out. He's too timid. I don't want to change who he his, I just want him to grow up and be a strong, independent man.

Exhaling in relief, I continue, "You and I are very different from the other three people in this house. We are wizards." There's a surprised look on his face and I know he wants to interrupt and contradict me. "Later today you will receive a letter in the mail to a wizard school. Most likely Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That's where you're parents went. I don't know all the details of it but there's a letter to Vernon and Petunia stowed away in the attic that explains some of it. We can get it later if you want.

"I do not attend Hogwarts by the way. I'm a student of Durmstrang in Russia, that's where I'm at most of the year, not the stupid business academy your gullible aunt and uncle believe I'm at. Now, when the new term starts you and I will both be in the wizarding world. We can communicate by owl while we're there without worrying about the Dursley's knowing anything."

I paused to take a breath and leaned forward. Meeting his eyes, I said, "Harry, I would really like it if you would trust me. Talk to me whenever you need to while you're at school." He almost jumped over the table to hug me.

We talked a bit longer, until I heard an alarm clock go off. Then we washed our dishes and started making breakfast for the rest of the family. "Let me get the mail today okay? I just don't want them to find your letter." He stayed quiet but the right corner of his lips turned upward in a shadow of a smile.

Harry and I set more food down on the table as Vernon's thunderous hams for feet clamored from the master bedroom to the dining room. Petunia knocked on Dudley's door, "Dudders, darling, pumpkin, my little boy, it's time to get up for breakfast." The bed creaked as he moved to get up. What he wouldn't do for food.

Another plate of toast was carried to the table and just as it was placed between the eggs and bowl of strawberries, Vernon heard the mail flap open, papers fall to the floor, and then it closed. "Get the mail boy." Boy. Never Harry, never Darling or Pumpkin or Sweetheart. He and Petunia both call Dudley those pet names as a sign of affection. They never say anything encouraging or affectionate to my Harry.

"I'll get it Father."

The elephant smiled and gruffly said, "Ah, finally some respect. That's my boy, respectful." He's aiming this all at Harry. What he doesn't understand is that I don't respect him either. Harry doesn't that true, but he has enough fear in him that he won't say anything against Vernon's behavior.

One day, I'm going to leave this place. I'll take Harry with me and we two will live in my home in our world. That's right, a house was left to me. Actually more than one house, but that's not important. It's unplottable, but I'm sure those bastards in office can find some way to get to us if they have to. I would leave now if I could but they like to keep tabs on children. I hate the government.

I'm by the front door now, picking up the mail. Harry's acceptance letter is on the top of the stack. Bills and junk mail, a post card from Aunt Marge. I tuck the only important letter away into my back pocket as I walk back to the dining room table. I hand the post card over to Vernon, place the bills next to him and throw away the junk.

Last year I bought a Norwegian Forest Cat. I love this breed of feline, they're perfect for bringing to Russia. Thick hair, long bushy tails, white/gray fur. He blends into the scenery there, and then in the warmer months and when we're in England, it sheds it's fur. I'm not fond of the shedding but it's a necessary evil. My cat, Kazimir, can travel long distances. He's a very independent cat, we keep him outdoors naturally. He will be the familiar we send Harry's response to Hogwarts with.

"Oh, Marge is ill. Ate a funny whelk." Yes, please keep talking, ruin my morning further, why not?

"We should go visit her dear. I'm sure she'd like the company, and my little Dudders always likes playing with her puppies, don't you darling?" Her voice grates on my nerves. I have to get out of here. Now.

Quickly running to my room, I pull a light jacket from my closet and race back downstairs. Vernon is leaving for work. I grab Harry while Petunia has her back turned talking to Dudley.

"Let's go." I'm taking him to the park near by. The streets aren't all that empty in the mornings, neighbors leaving for work, kids to summer school. We walk along the sidewalk, practically unnoticed. He needs a little time away from these awful people to let all the information sink in.

When we get to the park, the swing set it void of people. We sit next to each other in the center of the slightly rusted structure. The chains rattle and creak with strain. This place needs to be renovated badly. I pull the letter from my pocket and pass it to him. "Open it." He's holding his breath, probably waiting for this to be an elaborate prank, but he breaks the wax seal on the envelope.

He read:

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress"

He turned his face to me when he finished. "There's another page, it just lists everything I'll need." He paused at this and continued in a disbelieving whisper, "So it's all real then? I'm really a wizard, all of it's true?"

"That's what I've been telling you from the beginning. Now, you need to respond to it. We can send a reply with Kazimir, he can make it there by the 31st. You have two days to tell them you're coming. I'll take you shopping for supplies tomorrow.

"We should probably get back to the house now. Petunia's going shopping with Dudley today so we'll have the house to ourselves for a few hours at least, and you still haven't opened your birthday present." I try to end on a cheerful note, but the truth is he's been left a lengthy list of chores to complete before they get back. It's the same thing every day. I help as much as I can, laundry, dishes, dusting. The lawn apparently needs to be weeded every other day. These muggles are ridiculous.

"Don't you need to shop for school stuff too? Where do you go for things like this? Cauldrons, a wand?"

"Since my school is in Russia, everything I need is in Kosoj Pereulok. There's a place almost identical to it in London; Diagon Alley. They have all sorts of shops where you can find everything you need and-"

"I don't have any money. This stuff must be expensive. How can I afford it, I'm sure Uncle Vernon won't pay for it." Stop interrupting me you impetuous child!

"Gringotts. It's a bank in Diagon Alley. I'm sure your parents left you enough to cover school at least. I don't know about your mother, but the Potters were Purebloods and most Pureblood families have fortunes saved up. Don't worry, even if you don't have enough, I'll help you. My parents left me their vault. We'll make it work Harry."

The early morning chill is starting to dissipate. We leave the park and turn back to the house. Interesting how it's always "the house" and never "home." I don't think too much of it now but spending eleven years of my life in that same building with people who, at the very least, acted like they cared, it just seems strange that I don't think of it as a real home.

We walked in companionable silence. The letter was folded over and gently tucked into the left front pocket of Harry's hand-me-down jeans as if it were a precious treasure. Those jeans used to be mine. Faded and worn but they fit much better than Dudley's old clothes ever will on him.

Once we're back, there's a list of chores held to the fridge with a teacup shaped magnet. Laundry, make the beds, vacuum the carpet, sweep the floors, wash the windows. It keeps going. I tear off half the list before Harry can see it. I've been doing this for years. Dividing the tasks among us without him or anyone else knowing. Luckily all anyone asks is, "Did you get everything done?" It doesn't matter if Harry says yes or no. They check anyway.

By the time we're done cleaning it's just after noon. The beds still need to be made and the sheets are in the dryer.

"We have two problems to deal with. The first is easily dealt with; send a reply to... who was it? The Deputy Headmistress, Mogonacall?"

"McGonagall"

"Right. Then the hard part. How do we explain where you are for the next ten months of every year until you're seventeen to your aunt and uncle?" I want to keep him out of trouble with them so we can't tell them the truth, but they aren't going to fall for the same trickery I used again. Magic won't help us here either. Casting a spell to alter their memory is not only too advanced for me (for now) but also illegal. Or we could tell them the truth, the day before we leave the country and then run away together to my family home in our world. I shake my head. That's just wishful thinking.

He falters and I think he almost choked on his on saliva when I mentioned it. "Can we not think about that right now? Let's just write this response letter to Ms. McGonagall."

"Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. At a private institute you will be expected to show the staff proper respect. Never miss or mister, always professor, or whatever their official title is." He nodded in understanding, meeting my gaze. We're drinking iced tea in the living room. I get up, he's following me with his eyes. I head up to my bedroom, reach under my bed, pull out his still wrapped gift, then go back to the couch. "Now is as good a time as any to open this."

He opens it slowly, taking his time, careful not to rip the paper. He picks up the quills one by one, running his fingers along the feathery ends. Giddy with joy. It's all over his face. "These are what people in our world use to write with. Not pens or pencils. You should recognize them from pictures in your history books at school."

"Quill pens."

"That's right, these are self inking so you'll never have to buy inkwells if you keep these in good condition. Eventually you will have to buy more though. There's parchment beneath them."

"What's in this box?" He's holding a black rectangular box, it was hidden under the parchment. The candy I bought him is in it.

"Open it and see."


	3. Chapters 11 through 15

Harry and I sent a short reply back to Hogwarts. Nothing more than a thank you for admitting him to the school and that he's looking forward to being there on the 1st of September. I attached it to Kazimir's collar and sent him off. Curiously, they sent Harry's key to his vault at Gringotts in the letter. I want to know why they had it to begin with. Shouldn't it be at the bank? Shouldn't the goblins there be the one's to give him that key?

We still don't know what to tell our family. The train leaves in two days. Tomorrow is his birthday. Today I'm taking him to Diagon Alley for his books, robes, other supplies, and most importantly, his familiar. We're taking a bus to London as soon as Petunia and Dudley leave to visit some friends.

Seven o'clock. Vernon is backing out of the driveway in his plain, four-door, absolutely normal car.

Eight fifteen. Dudley is walking to Piers' house up the street. Petunia, right behind him with a tin of cookies. Such a polite, normal neighbor. They left Harry locked up in the cupboard under the stairs. Again. I think I'm going to be sick.

Nine twenty-five. We're finally in London. I take him to Charring Cross Rd., into the Leaky Cauldron, all the way to the back door, almost there. I'm surprised no one has stopped us yet. Probably because his scar is covered by his hair. The last thing he needs is to be assaulted by fans his first day here.

I tap the brick wall behind the pub with my wand. It opens and we follow the road past the apothecary, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Eeylops Owl Emporium, Madam Malkins, and eleven other shops before turning right, heading up the steps to Gringotts. This is the second time I've been here in less than a week.

Nagnok isn't here today, must be his day off. We head to the closest goblin who isn't with a client. He looked down his very long, pointed nose at as. "What can I do for you gentlemen today?" This one's all business.

"I need to make a withdrawal." Way to go Harry! Finally speaking for yourself, well it's a start.

"Name?"

"Harry Potter."

"Do you have your key, Mr. Potter?"

He took the key from his pocket and handed it to the Goblin, we later found out his name is Griphook. It was another goblin though who took us to his vault. I let out a shrill whistle of amazement when the door was opened. "Damn Harry, you're about as rich as me. How do you feel? Not overwhelmed are you?"

Shaking his head no, he walks in looking at the glinting gold, silver, and brass in awe.

"Just grab two handfuls of the galleons, they're the gold coins, and lets go. We have a lot to get before the day is over."

Back outside, we make a right turn from the bottom of the steps towards Ollivanders'. It's the best legal wand shop in Europe and is situated almost at the very end of Diagon Alley. A tiny bell rings as we push open the door. It's dusty in here, and despite the large windows acting as a wall, the lighting is still fairly dim.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander, are you there?" I'm standing at the counter that separates the front of the store from the rows of a hundred thousand wands, leaning over it and calling to the far back. I've never met Mr. Ollivander. I didn't get my wand here, but I've read about him and this shop in the newspapers before. I turn away from the desk, "Harry come over here."

"Mr. Ollivander is out at the moment. I'm his associate, Mr. Jameson at your service. What can I do for you two gentlemen this fine morning?" He was a young man with plain features, dark brown eyes and short brown hair. He might be thirty or so years old.

I smiled, "What does every wizard need when he turns eleven?"

Mr. Jameson's eyes lit up catching my mirthful attitude, "A wand! Well gents, you've come to the right place! Ollivander's offers only the best quality wands, each as unique as the person it chooses. After all, the wand chooses the wizard and no two are ever alike! So, which of you lads wants to try out a wand first, hm?"

"Just Harry today sir, I already have a wand."

"Well come over here, lets have a look at you." He came around the counter and circled Harry like a vulture. "Are you right or left handed?"

"Right." Crap, he's back to the timid little boy he was two weeks ago. His hand is grasped firmly by Mr. Jameson. Then he lets go and Harry's hand falls back to his side.

"Back in a flash." He's disappeared behind ceiling high shelves. Peaking around the corner, I see him pulling long, thin wooden boxes into his arms. Four, five, six. He's coming back. "Here we are, try this one." The lid was lifted from the first box, inside was a very slender cherry wood wand. At a glance, I'd say it's about nine and a half inches long. "A beautifully crafted cherry wand, core of unicorn tail hair, nine and seven sixteenths inches."

It took us less than ten minutes to find the right wand. Holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather core. According to Mr. Jameson, it's a "nice and supple" wand.

"Alright Harry, we'll get your robes next. Then we'll stop for ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor before getting your books, cauldron, telescope and a familiar. Of course, you don't need a familiar yet, the school has owls you can use to send mail but if you do get one now just remember it'll have to stay outside every summer and the Dursley's can't know about it if it's anything other than a cat. "

"The letter said a cat, owl or toad, but if you don't think I need one then I guess it can wait."

At Madam Malkin's we ran into a snobby little blond. He introduced himself as Draco Malfoy. Note: Pureblood, must get on his good side. His mother came in to get him shortly after his fitting. I was reminded of Petunia and how she dotes on Dudley.

By the time we were done shopping it was almost four. We picked up a new trunk for him while in muggle London to hide his things away in. Everything will stay in my room, in the closet so no one finds it. That's where I keep my school things anyway.

Tomorrow I leave for Russia by ship, then from the docks at Naryan-Mar to the nearest train station (I'm really trying not to give away too much about the school, I've probably said too much already and I'm only going to say more from this point) and straight to school. Harry will have to find a way to Kings Cross Station on his own. I'm sure the Knight Bus will come.

That's an excellent idea actually, I'll call the bus from here to take us back to Surrey. Then Harry can use it on the 1st to get to platform 9 3/4. I bought the ticket for him while he was in Flourish and Blotts getting his textbooks. Which reminds me, "Before we leave, we're going to stop by Kings Cross. I want to make sure you know where to find the platform."

"Why wouldn't I be able to find it?" I see his curious, large eyes looking up at me. He's not that short for eleven; I'm only two inches taller than he is.

"Think Harry. Have you ever heard of or seen any platform numbered 'nine and three quarters'?"

He knit his eyebrows together in thought, and when comprehension finally dawned, he said, "I guess not, so how do I get there if it isn't real?" Surrounded by witches, wizards, and goblins in a hidden alley all day and still he doesn't know a thing about magic.

"It's real, it's just hidden from muggles, exactly like Diagon Alley is."

We're back in the muggle world, but not completely alone, the Knight Bus has three other occupants besides the driver.

At the station, we walk to platform nine. "If its anything like the train I take, the platform should be accessible through this barrier." Looking around to make sure no one noticed, I pushed my hand against the cool brick and it goes through. I was right. Yay me. I pull Harry through the barrier, "This is where the Hogwarts Express will pick you up, just remember to be here before 11AM." He nods the affirmative and we head back outside, wait for a normal bus to come by and ride in near silence back to Surrey and then onto another bus to Little Whinging.

Luckily, when we get home no one else has come back yet. I carry the heavy trunk upstairs and stow it inside the closet, at the very back. Harry runs to the kitchen to start dinner. I swear Harry, one day, we'll leave this place and you will never have to work like this again.

I have a few hours left to pack my things for tomorrow. When Vernon gets in I'll put my trunk in the back seat and start preparing for a very long car ride.

It takes a day and a half to get from the Dursley's house to Durmstrang. I hate traveling like this.

Durmstrang will never change I suppose. It's been a week and everyone has fallen back into their usual schedules. Wake up call is at six, but most people are awake long before then for various reasons but mostly to get to the showers and still have some privacy. Then we have half an hour before breakfast is served in the Dining Hall. A typical breakfast here includes bliny (similar to pancakes, I usually eat them with strawberry jam), sausage, fried ham, ghalushki poltavskie (a kind of dumpling, plain, but filling), grenki (reminds me of french toast), and cheese.

Breakfast ends at 7:15 and our first class starts at 7:30. Each class is one hour long, with a fifteen minute break between classes. That seems very lenient for a school that prides itself on discipline and strict scheduling but when a student has a quarter hour to go from the astronomy tower to the dungeon, well, he or she will only be too grateful if there's five seconds to spare. All the professors lock the classroom doors as soon as class starts. There's no way in or out until class is over.

Every student has six classes every day, five days per week, Saturdays are devoted to physical health and we have Sundays off. Last year I only had to take the fundamental core classes, things everyone needs to know like Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. Now I'm a second year student and my schedule includes classes that are slightly more advanced and actually are built upon the fundamentals I learned as a first year. As it should be. This is my schedule, it's the same every day.

7:30 History of Magic - Professor Tarasov

8:45 Curses & Hexes - Professor Chubinskii (one of my favorite teachers, and the head of Klyk Zmiya)

10:00 Transfiguration - Professor Kiselow

11:15 Study Period

12:30 Lunch

1:00 Charms - Professor Dvorkin (head of Drakonya Krov)

2:15 Magical Creatures - Professor Lindberg (who is also the Deputy Highmaster)

3:30 Potions - Professor Simonovich

4:45 Study Period, this is also when clubs get together for things like foreign language study or quidditch

6:00 Dinner

8:00 All first through third year students must be in their common rooms

9:00 First through third years in bed, fourth years and up in common rooms

10:00 Lights out. No exceptions.

Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and History of Magic are required classes, for every student from their first day until graduation. That leaves us with two elective classes every year, except first years who only have one "elective" because they have to take Divination.

The elective classes are: Alchemy, Curse Breaking, Curses & Hexes, Dark Flora & Fauna, Defense & Dueling, Dragon Training, Enchantments & Bans, Illusions, Survival, Weaponry, and Ancient Runes.

Do the math. Six classes per year, four required, two electives. Out of 11 possible electives, two are taken each year for six years, and one for one year (a total of 13 classes) which means during our last year, we have two periods in which no classes are taken. Free time! Finally!

Durmstrang is divided into two houses, both of which I mentioned briefly as side notes on my schedule. Drakonya Krov and Klyk Zmiya (Dragons Blood and Snakes Fang respectively). There isn't really any sort of animosity between the two houses, mostly because the only way to tell if someone is from one house or the other is if they tell you. All of our uniforms are the same. Red, fur-lined coats, red long sleeved shirts, black ties, black pants tucked into black boots.

A typical Drakonya Krov student will be quiet, revengeful, loyal, physical, idealistic, stubborn, and unforgiving. A Klyk Zmiya student on the other hand is quick, manipulative, clever, distrusting, resourceful, self-serving, and ambitious. The school colors may only be red and black but each common room is decorated in the houses own colors. Drakonya is green and gold, Klyk is blue and silver. Can you tell which house I'm in?

An owl came this afternoon while I was in the library, a simple little barn owl. It's the first letter from Harry I've received. As soon as I untied the letter from it's leg, the thing went flying off again. I doubt anything terrible has happened in a week so I'll save it for later. I still have to write a 3,000 word essay for Professor Chubinskii. Research is such a drag. Imagine, three thousand words on the application of _Confringo _and examples of when it would be useful in battle.

At six I headed downstairs to the Dining Hall. There are five long, rectangular tables in this room, with chairs lining each side of each table. I'm wedged between my two best friends, Misha and Gavron at the far left table near the back of the hall. We're required to attend dinner but we don't have to eat. Tonight I've brought a book with me. I might nibble on some bread rolls but other than that I just have too many things to read about.

Dinner is always a silent affair. Proper witches and wizards do not talk during a meal unless it's a social event and one is entertaining guests.

Curses & Hexes of the 20th Century by Motka Popov. The glossary says I can find _Congringo _on pages 26 and 34. According to Mr. Popov the Congringo curse was invented in 1931 by a French woman named Abelle Tullier. The spell causes it's target to explode in flame.

Is that a pot roast I smell? Forget the book, I'm...well, I'm not starving, but I am a bit hungry. One should always put thing in perspective. There will always be someone less fortunate than I. Truthfully, aside from having to watch someone I care for be abused and not have a way to help him, I haven't had a terrible life so far. I have never been forced by circumstance to go days without food or shelter, nor have I suffered from disease, or watched someone slip away to their eternal slumber.

This is a very austere school. In the first few weeks the house elves wean us off the fantastic meals that (as Pureblood aristocracy) we are used to from home to very bland but perfectly proportioned meals we need as children growing into fine adults. The food is not set out before us like a giant buffet; from empty tables appear filled plates from the kitchens below. No desserts, candy is confiscated, any sugar we get is completely natural. Apples, grapes, kiwi. I'm rather surprised the Highmaster bothers importing such expensive fruit but I suppose the school can afford it with such a high tuition cost.

Seven hundred galleons per year. Hogwarts is 450, Beauxbatons Académie costs 575, and then there's another school in Brazil but I can't remember the name of it or how much it costs. The cheapest wizarding school in the world is The Salem Institute of Magical Learning, it's 200 galleons a year, but I wouldn't be caught dead there. Not a single Pureblood lives in the states, the school is filled with mudbloods.


	4. Chapters 16 through 20

I read Harry's letter on my way back to the common room after dinner. He says he was sorted into Gryffindor by a singing hat. He has three new friends; Draco, the boy me met at Madam Malkins, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. He writes, "Draco doesn't get along with the others though, he's in Slytherin. Ron doesn't like him. I think he's a little stuck up, but other than that, he's not too bad."

According to him, Gryffindor is the best house to be in unless he's having potions class. "Snape's a right foul git, he favors Slytherins and is always looking for an excuse to take points away from Gryffindor." I must ask him what he means by this. What are points? Why are they important, and why is Professor Snape taking them away?

"They have enchanted paintings here, and the common room door is covered by a portrait of this really fat woman with curly brown hair. To get in I have to tell her a password. It's so amazing here!"

The common rooms at Durmstrang aren't password protected. There's no need for it, very few people outside Durmstrang (aside from it's graduates) know where the school is. Unless we're going to be attacked by teachers and I very much doubt that, besides, even if we were they would know the passwords.

In my house's common room, the chairs and couch are covered with green velvet and everything is trimmed in gold swirling embellishments. The common rooms are the only places in the whole school not dull. Even the bedrooms are simple. Bunk beds, two in each room and just enough space to put our trunks under the bottom bunk. We aren't allowed to put anything on the walls.

The library at Hogwarts has a "restricted section," students aren't allowed in there without the expressed written consent of a professor. I think that's just stupid. No books should be entirely off limits. I understand if there's some content not suitable for younger students but to say, "You may be a legal adult but in this school you can't read that," is ridiculous.

I have one hour until I have to be in bed. Kazimir is, fortunately, sleeping at the head of my bed so I'll send him off later.

Pulling my trunk from under the bed, I open it to find an absolute wreck. Organization is not one of my strongest qualities. That's not to say I'm particularly messy, just that my things could stand to be straightened out a bit. Anyway, spare parchment is saved in little box with some extra quills (self inking, why bother with any other?) right beside my text books.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm glad to know you're making friends already. Don't be too hard on Professor Snape, remember things aren't always what they seem, and first impressions can be wrong. I don't want to hear you calling anyone a "right foul git," it isn't proper or polite. To get respect you have to give it._

_What do you mean by "points" and why is your professor taking them from your house?_

_I know I shouldn't tell you to this but I firmly believe everyone has a right to information. Sneak in if you have to but find out what kind of books are being kept in the restricted section. You never know what useful things you can find in books._

_I've made a new friend here as well. His name's Viktor. He's a fourth year student and doesn't talk much but he's really cool. I think you two would get along well if you ever meet. _

_Sincerely,_

_Dmitri_

I let the ink dry before rolling the paper up and tying it with a piece of string to the inside of Kazimir's collar and sending him off.

Nothing particularly interesting has occurred here up until now, a month in and only two messages from Harry. Viktor is instructing me in the rules of quidditch in exchange for my help researching fwoopers in his Magical Creatures class. Fwoopers are very colorful song birds in Africa, the only problem is their songs drive people literally insane. They are sold in some pet shops but the government (a bunch of pretentious, overbearing, control-freaks) regulates the birds and they can only be sold with a powerful silencing charm on them.

Harry's second letter arrived late last night. It was a different owl this time, a tawny owl with very needle-like, razor-edged talons. I have marks on the back of my hand to prove it. This owl, unlike the last one, stayed perched on the edge of my bed until I gave it a letter to return to Harry. I just wanted to go back to sleep. Three in the morning is no time to answer the mail!

I'm pleased to know Harry is following my advice, showing Professor Snape more respect than he had been is paying off. Then he told me all about the house points. If there were ever a competition to start all out wars between students, that's it. The way he explained it, students battle over the House Cup like it's a million unclaimed galleons. Hogwarts students must be very materialistic, they should try living the way my schoolmates and I do for a while.

October is very cool here, 5oC (roughly 40oF) today, the snow won't start until nearly November but the trees are already bare. It's almost noon and still early in the month. No rain yet so today is perfect for flying. I bought two new brooms last weekend while visiting Kosoj Pereulok. One will be a Christmas present for Harry even though first years aren't allowed their own brooms there. That rule doesn't make any sense to me either. Why would the school waste money on brooms for first years when they have flying lessons but not let them buy their own? Shouldn't that money be going to more valuable places like classroom textbook sets or staff salaries for example?

Viktor came up to me this morning at breakfast. He wants to race me now that I have my own broom. His broom is made of birch wood and is almost completely white, it's a very fast broom which is good since he's a seeker on one of the quidditch teams that have formed for Saturday games. My broom is more stable, perfectly balanced; if I played quidditch I would say that it was made for a beater.

The whole of my broom is composed of mahogany wood, even the bristles are carved mahogany. Runes and spells are weaved into it too, the shopkeeper called it "The Scarlet Falcon." No doubt he'll have the advantage, not only is he an experienced flyer but he's a seeker and wants to play professionally. So ambitious, I hope he gets to one day, he has much talent.

I enjoy flying, it's invigorating. I think I may be an adrenaline junkie. The exhilarating feel of rushing wind around me, utter weightlessness when diving towards the earth, the blood pumping through my veins so hard I can hear it beating against my skull.

Viktor and I raced around the school building, Misha stood at the finishing point waiting to declare the winner. Not that she needed to, Viktor beat me by a long shot. He's faster than a spine-tailed swift, which is extraordinarily impressive considering that is the fastest bird on the planet. It's record speed is 171 kilometers per hour. There's no way I could beat that, I've only been flying for a year. Less actually, I've flown every Saturday and Sunday since my first year here so two days per week for eleven months. Eighty-eight days total.

Misha is one of my best friends, we met during our first charms class together. She's very short with a cute baby-face, round features and large crystal blue eyes. Like Viktor, she's a real athlete, and versatile too. Since this year started she's been the chaser for one of our recreational quidditch teams and keeper for another. Swivenhodge is her favorite sport. It's like tennis but on brooms and the ball, about the size of a volleyball, is hit back and forth over a hedge.

The three of us headed inside after the race, Viktor threw his arm around my shoulders. A very physical person, I don't think I've seen him go ten minutes without coming into physical contact with someone. He's so warm, how can anyone be that warm after flying around in near freezing temperatures? I'm freezing my arse off and he's like a blazing inferno. Maybe it's a charm; I must look into this.

It's still early afternoon, but the sun is already setting. There isn't much light for very long this far north. Professor Dvorkin assigned a paper this past Friday to list out our favorite curses and hexes, what they do, why we would use them and what to counter them with if someone attacks us using those spells.

Anyone who is so stupid as to make a list of what spells they're most likely to use in a fight deserves everything that happens to them when faced with a real opponent. Imagine what could happen if an enemy got hold of that list! They'd know everything you're going throw at them before you do. I'm going to do dig up whatever I can from the library but there's no way in the name of Aries they're getting such a list from me.

There's still a good five hours before I have to be back in the common room, that gives me plenty of time to plan this little assignment. I swear they think we're all morons. If you gather all my friends together, Gavron is the book worm of us all. He spends 90% of his free time in the library. I'll bet he's there now. I like him because he's filled with information ranging from the most dangerous plant in Chile to Einstein's Theory of General Relativity (hey I understand that theory well, not that it matters in this world).

He's here, just as I suspected. Sitting in the back of the room between two very tall, unstable stacks of thick, leather bound tombs. "Have you started on Professor Dvorkin's paper yet?" I keep my voice as low as possible, leaning very close to him while trying to read the spine of the book currently in his hands.

"Yes. I had it done yesterday morning." No need to be a snob about it. It's not like I'm going to ask to copy your work. I'll do my own thank you. Why are we friends again?

"Good for you," I pat his head, like one would a dog, "did you do exactly as he asked?"

"Yes." The book snapped shut between his hands and he walked away. Sorry I asked. Idiot, he actually did as told. He'll be in a lot of trouble if someone (like me) gets their grubby little hands on that paper.

One month of school is over. Today is the third of October. I've decided to join two clubs this year since they start meeting tomorrow. Fencing, which was created long before the separation of the muggle and wizarding worlds, and Dueling. Dueling is also a class I will have to take next year, so I thought I would prepare myself for whatever happens there. It couldn't hurt at the very least to learn.

The Fencing League, as they've decided to be called, is overseen by Professor Andrevich who teaches Astronomy in the mornings to first years and Ancient Runes to fourth through seventh year students in the afternoons. He's definitely the most interesting professor I've had so far. A little eccentric, but like all professors here, very strict. Discipline, as I've said, is highly important at Durmstrang.

Dueling will prove to me a more useful skill though. I hope to use the club as a means of preparation for class. Every fourth year student is required to begin Dueling but I want to begin a year earlier, so the professor agreed to let me in join the class if I joined the club. Meanwhile, I've found that Purebloods are taught to play music from a young age. This will put a definite dent in my free time. Not only do I have two clubs to participate in, classes, and homework but now I must learn some instrument. As though it weren't difficult enough living down my parents' reputation, now I have this bearing down on my shoulders.

I have always liked the violin though.

Misha has detention tonight. I know she won't be harmed too badly but disciplinary action is at the discretion of the instructor. Corporal punishment is still widely popular here. I've had detention only once. I was caught wandering the halls after hours and spent the next night bent over a desk being caned. My backside was black and blue for two days. Since then, I've done my best to not get caught.

If she were here, she'd help me. Not that I need help of course, I'm too proud to say I need it, but I wouldn't mind some assistance from time to time should it be offered.

I understand the rules are in place to keep us safe, but I have a real problem with authority. I'm two-faced. To authority figures, I'm the most well behaved, polite, dutiful young man alive today but once they're gone, I break every rule (and law) I can get away with. I am one corrupt little demon. A deceitful, conniving wretch, but at least I'll admit it. There are people in existence so horrible they believe their own lies, people who live in the constant state of delusions they've created in their own minds. Politicians.

So, Dueling meets every Monday and Thursday and Fencing is on Friday which means I have every first study break, and second break on Tuesdays and Wednesdays to finish essays and other class work, and all of Sunday to practice music. I'm never going to have another free moment again this year. FML.

Kazimir took a letter to Harry last night, I was starting to wonder if he had run away from that awful school yet. I wouldn't blame him if he did. I never ask anything about Dumbledore or his propaganda; never know who's "monitoring" the mail. Things like that are best saved for face-to-face meetings when no one else is around to spy.

_Dmitri,_

_Everything is grand here. We had our first flying lesson two weeks ago, I should have told you that last time I wrote. Anyway, Neville's gran sent him a Remembrall and when he fell off his broom, Draco tried to keep it for himself. Sometimes I wonder if he's a ... kleptomaniac? Is that the right word?_

_I've been made seeker on the Gryffindor quidditch team! The youngest seeker in the century says McGonagall. Snape wasn't too thrilled, Hermione thinks he's the one that tried to jinx my broom at the match. I need a new broom though, first years aren't allowed to have their own and the school brooms aren't perfect._

Oh yeah, I still haven't sent him his broom, it was supposed to be a christmas gift but if he needs it... I guess it couldn't hurt to spoil him a bit. He won't get such treatment when we go back to the Dursley's this holiday break.

_Ron and Draco were talking in the library yesterday about a wizard duel, Hermione kept me busy with homework and I haven't seen any of them today, when they aren't busy that is. What's a wizard duel?_

Oi. I must remember to buy him books on these things later.

_I'm not sure I want to go back to the muggle world next month. Would you be terribly upset if I decided to stay here?_

I don't blame him for not wanting to go back, but we do need to talk about some things better left unwritten.

A reply can wait till morning, I have work to finish and research to catch up on. I tend to that a lot don't I? Put off writing back until it's more convenient, I mean. This may be a dangerous habit to fall into. What if he really needs me at some point? I'm not saying he will, but the future isn't written in stone and who can tell the future? Seers? Don't make me laugh. A person's future is decided by their own actions, not some fortune teller and a crystal ball.

Divination is a waste of time, and everyone here knows it. That's why we're only required to take one year of the class. It isn't even offered as an elective course! But it is a "fundamental of magical learning" so the school, being under government pressure, must at least offer the class.

Damn politician busy-bodies, nosy, good-for-nothing, campaign mongering, greedy bastards. They try to control everything, even people's minds. Public media, **PUBLIC**, is regulated by them too. They want to be sure of everything the people read, hear, and see. People are told what to think and do, how to live their lives. They are not told that it's okay to question authority, to look for flaws in the legal system, to get involved in the policies, and most importantly they are not taught to Think for Themselves.

This is not meant to be a rant against government rule, but it's quickly turning that way.

Anyway, I have a report on Lethifolds due tomorrow afternoon. Deputy Highmistress will have my head if it's not finished.

Lethifolds, by the way, are rare but dangerous creatures of darkness. They move around like shadows on the ground, smother their prey (usually human) and then devour it, bones and all. I want one as a pet.


	5. Chapters 21 through 25

_Harry,_

_Congratulations on making the team! I've sent you two gifts, as you may have noticed, with this letter. Don't open them until you're alone. I hope you use one of them at your next game. _

_A Malfoy? Kleptomaniac? You actually have to ponder this...how else do you think they aquired their wealth? Good business? They aren't bad people; ambitious, like every Slytherin, you've told me that's a common quality between them. Ambition isn't a crime, but it drives people to do some strange things. _

_We'll talk more when we see each other late next month. Yes, you do have to go back. It's only two weeks, and I'll be there with you._

_With love,_

_Dmitri_

I sent this letter, the broom and a manual of dueling (which I've already finished) with a few of the school owls. I've decided to spend part of the holiday at my late parents' old estate in Wizard Moscow. They, or I, now that they're dead, have another in St. Petersburg, but I'm not concerned with it yet. The goblins at Gringotts have finally found the general location of this manor. I'm sure, unless Mr. and Mrs. Glebovich employed house elves and there's no telling if those elves are still alive or haven't run off after the deaths of their owner, the manor is in a state of disrepair.

All Hollow's Eve hasn't passed yet and already I'm planning what to do this winter. Sergei invited me to his home but this is more important. I have big plans for that manor.

Sergei is one of my classmates. He's ridiculously tall for a twelve year old, loves Exploding Snaps, and plays the harpsichord. Laughing, hazel eyes surrounded by tan flesh and dark hair. Buzz cut, like every other male here. From what I've gathered, Purebloods grow out their hair, it's traditional for both men and women to have very long hair. A symbol of status they say. It's my opinion our hair is cut so short to teach us humility. What twisted logic.

Should I hang my father's portrait in the manor? It was his home and he is my father, but he was also a blood-traitor and I never knew him personally. I have no emotional connection to him. It is a nice picture though. Who ever painted it must have been very talented and skilled. I should get my portrait done, when I've matured physically, not now.

Viktor and I have seen more of each other lately. Companionable silence. Neither he nor I talk much, in the company of others or alone together. Mostly our time is devoted to study or sports. Every year the school hosts quidditch match in a nearby town, never at the school, can't risk giving away our location. Talent scouts from Russia and neighboring countries are always invited.

He hopes to get on the Bulgarian team. They are the best in the entire Northern Hemisphere in his oh so great opinion. I couldn't care less but for the sake of our friendship, I'll humor his obsession with the sport. Gavron doesn't like him and I can't understand why, but I won't force either of them to get along. I'm such a good person.

It's a holiday for the love of Merwyn (Merwyn the Malicious: famous medieval wizard known for creating many unpleasant curses - I've taken it upon myself to learn a few of them). Halloween is celebrated throughout the world, especially this world, and what do our dearly beloved professors give us? More homework. I swear I've written so much my fingertips are imprinted with the patterns on my quill.

Misha and Gavron are outside, I haven't spent much time with them lately. Vikor is more often in the company of his current fans than with me. I think it's just a touch of jealousy stirring in my mind but I really wish they'd ... I don't know. I want to spend time with them, but I don't want to talk, it's that companionable silence I miss. The feeling of "I'm here, I'm not leaving you" that kind of lingers in the atmosphere. It's comforting.

Crap. I'm lonely. That's what's wrong with me.

On the other hand, I've been left with some free time to learn the violin (I can already play through the scales with some proficiency). There really isn't much to do. Study, fill my mind with useful information: spells, politics. I'm twelve years old, thirteen in just over four months and all I do is devote my time to exercising my mind and body.

I've been waking up an hour earlier than usual to run laps around the school, and I complete a set of push-ups before bed. Apparently I have a subconsciously demented desire to be literal perfection and I'm only now realizing it. Ah well, this is what those awkward teen years are for.

Drakonya Krov's common room is so silent this time of night. I know I shouldn't be out of bed, it's three in the morning, but I can't resist breaking the rules. The fire's out. Why do we even have a fireplace? It's not allowed to burn, the professor's think the warmth will spoil us and make us weak. The door creaks open and I move to hide within the darker shadows in the room. It's only Kazimir, slinking through the crack between the frame and the door.

He has a roll of parchment stuck in his collar and I know it's from Harry. The last time I sent Kazimir to him, the silly cat stayed there. Probably getting fat and spoiled rotten at Hogwarts.

"_Lumos_."

_Dmitri,_

_Tonight at dinner, Professor Quirrell ran into the hall and fainted. He was shouting about a troll that had gotten into the dungeons. Dumbledore says Voldemort's back. I don't know why he told me this exactly, something about it's my destiny to bring about the fall of the dark lord. Over my head. But Dumbledore says he banished Voldemort from the castle tonight. He said it was the philosopher's stone that Voldemort went after tonight._

_What do you think?_

_Harry_

I think they have nothing but problems at that school. How could they let the Dark Lord into the school? Aren't there supposed to be wards against him around the grounds? Whatever the case, it's obvious Dumbledore doesn't know what he's doing, leaving Harry with the muggles and now this. Is the old man senile?

Destiny. Ha! What utter tripe. There is no predetermined destiny for anyone, everyone creates their own future as they live out their lives. What does the old man expect Harry to do? Beat the Dark Lord on his own?

1 December 1991

It's the first snow of the season, everything is covered in cold, white crystal blankets. Temperatures dropped to -4oC last night, and still the fires weren't lit. As much as I hate to admit it, I miss the physical warmth of "home," there's no emotional warmth there to miss. Since it is Sunday, I've opted to stay in bed for a while.

Buried beneath the sheet and comforter, trying to stay out of the chilled morning air, I'm reading another book. Old and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms. If they're forgotten, how is it that a book was written about them? It is a rather fascinating read though, it goes into great detail of the practical uses of each spell, and a brief autobiography of the person(s) who created it. By brief I mean about twenty pages worth. This text is no less than 4,000 pages long. Leather bound, I'd wager it weighs at least twenty-five pounds.

Kazimir is curled next to my chest, I guess it's too cold for even this wild fur-ball.

In just two weeks Harry and I will endure a family reunion of sorts. Hours and hours of filling their heads with lies of how well I'm doing in this upstanding, grand, oh-so-private business school and how I want nothing more than to be "just like Father" in six years. Eating a five course meal with my _parents _and _brother _at some over glorified restaurant while my dear cousin sits at home either cleaning or trying to sleep in that cramped little cupboard he's been thrown into.

I wonder what would happen if I created a tunnel between the cupboard and my room. There's a very particular spell created just for tunnel-making. _Defodio_. Harry could stay in my room without them ever knowing. I'll think on that later. I still have plans for this manor Baron and Baroness Glebovich left me. Yeah, apparently they held titles. Are titles passed on in Russia the same way they are in England? Am I the current Baron Glebovich? I care not, either way, they are dead and I will restore the honor of my family from before my parents' treachery. Abandoning the wizarding world, and for what exactly?

Oh yes, that's right, the Dark Lord had so much power then. He wasn't even in Russia! Besides, there are more than three billion witches and wizards inhabiting the planet. He only had maybe one thousand followers and supporters. Three billion can't take on one thousand. Honestly, people just don't think.

Note to self: send letter to Gringotts, ask about title.

I haven't told him this yet, because I don't want anyone who gets their hands on our letters to know, but I want to take Harry to my family's manor this holiday. Take inventory of the damage, see what has to be fixed before the place is inhabitable, and then when it is, I think I'd like for us to move in there; together.

Wishful thinking at the moment. I don't even know how long it's been in disuse or if anyone (or anything) has tried to work on the upkeep of the building. For all I know the very structure is crumbling from the foundation up.

It has never been considered safe by any measure to travel by sea from any Russian port in winter. This morning started out alright, cold but dry. No snowfall. That should have been our first indication of bad weather. The calm before the storm. The afternoon was clear as well, humidity levels dropped further.

Every student leaving for the holiday, myself included, marched from the castle to the train station carrying their own luggage. It's a good hour and twenty minutes worth of walking. There we separated, and stepped into whichever train we needed to get us home. My train ride was about two hours long (there were some delays due to technical difficulties), then I walked to the sea port where I boarded a ship England bound. This is where the troubles truly began.

Drifting ice, hail storms, blizzards, frozen equipment. I'll be lucky to reach the shores of England alive at this rate. I did manage to find the ships first mate before dinner. He says it looks like we'll have a two day delay, forecast calls for warm days tomorrow and Monday. Hopefully that will melt the ice around the area enough to begin our voyage.

Of all the things I learned at school this year so far, I couldn't look up a charm to keep the weather nice just long enough to get...well not home but to that little white house in Surrey.

Clouds hang dense in the sky above us tonight. I'll be surprised if it doesn't rain or something tonight. Warm days my arse. Muggles can predict the weather with fair accuracy, I'll give them that. But looking out the window in the morning is just as accurate.

I'm hoping that if I sleep through most of the trip, it will seem to go faster. I can't wait to see Harry again. We have a great deal of important matters to discuss. Including school, Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, and the manor in Russia. Before now I've never had any trouble with sea sickness, but all this tossing of the ship, the waves crashing into the sides, it's making me a bit nauseous.

To make matters worse, or maybe better depending on your view, the bed I'm sleeping in here is more comfortable than any of those at school. Kazimir likes it so much he's forced me out of it. My cat is stretched all over the middle and while I have enough room to sit on the bed, I cannot sleep in such a small space.

That's a cat for you though, "20% for the human, 80% for me, that's purrfectly fair." Vicious and heavy, the body of a real killer. A hunter. Lifting Kazimir isn't difficult, but it would be easier if he were a smaller breed. An Abyssian for example, except that Abyssians can't camouflage themselves among the snowy grounds of Russia and they would freeze to death in a single night.

Stretches, fifty push-ups, move the cat, and then sleep. Hopefully sweet dreams will come to me tonight. "Goodnight sweet prince, may wings of demons fly you to your dreams."

After days at sea, we've finally docked at the rocky shores of England. I said my farewells to the crew, whom I'd gotten to know a little better over the few days onboard, and then walked down the gangplank with my belongings.

Sweet solid ground, I'll never take you for granted again! Most of my things were left at school since I'll only be in England for four weeks. It makes traveling easier too, not having to carry 100 kilos of luggage, which I would be doing right now if I'd brought everything back with me. Between robes, books, cauldrons, and telescopes?

I only brought with me a few changes of clothes and some text books (disguised as Business Law books, but really: homework over the holidays), so overall not too bad. They won't break my back at least. Petunia will want to take me shopping and has probably already bought new clothes for me for Christmas. Speaking of Mommy Dearest, here she comes now.

"Darling! Oh, it's so wonderful to see you again. I've missed you so much." Kisses, hugs, I endure them all. Is it my imagination or has her voice become more shrill? "You're father and brother are waiting in the car, we have something for you, a 'Welcome Home' gift, but don't let them know I told you alright? It's supposed to be a surprise." She's all smiles and I feel like I'm going to vomit.

I plastered a fake smile across my face, "I won't say anything Mother." They wouldn't leave Harry alone in their pristine home, even locked in a cupboard. He must be with Mrs. Figg if he's not with the rest of the family. The Hogwarts Express arrived in London yesterday in the late afternoon. I know because I sent an owl to the station manager asking for arrival times. I had hoped to meet him there but the sea is an unkind mistress.

In the parking lot, their little family car is sitting in the shade of a Holly tree. The motor is still running and the shiny scrap of metal is pushed to the ground from the weight of the two great whales sitting inside it. Being the perfect, prodigal gentleman they believe me to be, I open the front passenger door and help my loving mother in.

Vernon's sitting at the wheel grimly, there are circles under his eyes. "Vernon dear?" Petunia's concern is not appreciated, he grunts and puts the car into reverse.

"Well Dmitri, now that you're back, what would you like to do?" His voice is gruff, there's a slight wheezing sound resonating from his chest. Choking on his own fat. It's obvious he doesn't want to do anything but go home and sleep. Being a Monday, I'll bet he just got off work to drive here, and I'll bet also he had a meeting today that didn't go too well.

"It's been such a long trip Father, I think it would be nice to just go home, rest, catch up with all of you over a nice dinner," He's happy with that answer but Petunia is itching to take me out and parade me, her perfect child, around, "and maybe tomorrow, after a good nights sleep, we could go out for breakfast." A diplomatic answer. Polite and unobtrusive, suggesting rather than demanding any particular course of action. It keeps everyone content, not entirely happy but not angry either. I should be a politician.


	6. Chapters 26 through 30

*Don't comment on the spell incantations. I didn't invent them. They're listed on HP Lexicon, from the books.* Also, please remember, in this chapter, Harry is still only eleven and Dmitri is still twelve; so no sexiness yet.

While I'm here it should be known that I don't completely hate Petunia, just her husband and son and everything the three of them do. She never liked her sister or brother-in-law but she did raise her nephew. I think if Vernon wasn't part of the family, she would have shown Harry more affection and love than she currently does or has up to this point. It's that motherly instinct.

She has a very unrealistic view of normalcy. It isn't normal to have a picture perfect life. No one has a picture perfect life, that's why it's called "picture" perfect, perfection (assuming it can be achieved at all) only lasts just long enough to take a picture. I think she needs to divorce Vernon and adopt Harry. Then Vernon can have custody over Dudley who already acts like his father and I can stay with her and Harry. That would be damn close to perfect. She won't go through with it though, divorce isn't something a perfectly normal family does.

On the drive back it started to snow lightly, a flurry of little white dots dropping down on us from the gray clouds above. They've decided to bring me to the house, take my things upstairs to the bedroom and then pick up Harry from Mrs. Figg's place. At that time, he will make dinner for everyone. Except himself, and "if any of the food is burned, he won't eat for a month," or so says Vernon at least. This is what happened last year and I won't let them do it again this year. I know they want to celebrate having me back home and they think Harry, being their freaky nephew and not their normal son, will spoil it for them.

"Why don't we just order pizza for tonight? It'll be quicker than making a whole meal and I am really tired."

"A brilliant idea son, just what I expect from such a great boy, and my own son especially. Save time and eat sooner," he's definitely in a better mood now that we're talking about food. "I could eat a dozen whole pizza pies myself I'm so hungry, haven't eaten anything since lunch." No one doubts the dozen pies part, but have you really not eaten anything in three hours? I'm shocked!

"Are we there yet? I'm hungry now!" Grow up Dudley, stop whinging like a little baby. You aren't and have never been that little.

"I'll order the pizza if you'll carry my things upstairs Father, and then Dudley can fetch Harry."

"Oh, how lovely, and I'll put on some tea while we wait." Homemaker extraordinaire: Mrs. Dursely receives first place, the blue ribbon, the gold medal.

I've noticed there are two kinds of women in our society: homemakers and feminists. Homemakers stay at home and take care of the children and cook and clean while their husbands work and bring home all the money. Feminists, as far as I can tell, aren't very smart either. They mirror all the worst behaviors of men: wearing suits, having a career, getting caught up in a greedy monetary system. This is the best they can come up with? Why not do something worth doing? Saving the planet for instance, working on world peace. Something, anything, than becoming just like the people who they claim have oppressed them their whole lives.

I'm getting ahead of myself, all that is irrelevant anyway.

"_Portus_" I turned a key into a portkey available for use whenever needed. Not that is was just any key to begin with, it's the key to my manor in Mascow. I plan on taking Harry there as early as possible in the morning, or after dark tonight when everyone has gone to bed. It really depends on what Mother and Father want to do and when we can get away from them.

After the pizza arrived, we all sat down and I lied to them about how wonderful school is, how hard the classes are, how my chemistry professor had lit her desk on fire. And then Dudley went to his room to play video games. Harry was still in the kitchen, waiting for us to finish eating so he could have the leftovers. Have I mentioned my hatred for these muggles?

"So darling, I was thinking we could go shopping early tomorrow morning, your father has the day off you know." Petunia, dear, you have to get a life! Leave me alone!

"I don't know, I'm still very tired from traveling. If I feel up to it, I'll let you know and if not, there's always the next day. Besides, I still need to unpack." That should satisfy her for now, even if she is a little disappointed.

Then, Vernon spoke up, "It's getting rather late now isn't it, why don't you go on up and put your things away, we'll find something to do tomorrow." I think he wants me to stay up late so we don't go shopping. He doesn't like to spend money. Unless it's on a new car or something similar. He should invest in a personal trainer. Fat arse.

It isn't that late. "Alright, I'm off to bed then, long day and all that, you know. Good night." I'll take any excuse to get myself out of here.

"Alright darling, sweet dreams," Petunia calls over her shoulder to me as I climb the stairs. It's only seven. I have no intention of going to sleep. Papers to write, spells to practice. It may be illegal for a minor to practice magic outside school (in England) but my wand is registered in Russia - the most the Ministry of Magic can do is send me a fine. Like a few sickles mean anything to me, and it's not like I'm stupid enough to perform magic in front of muggles.

So to create a tunnel from my room to Harry's cupboard, I need to cast _defodio _and a concealment charm...which one? Oh, I should probably sound proof the room, just in case this turns out noisy. What? I've never used the spell before. First time for everything.

"_Mufliato_." I can get to the cupboard through the wall beside my bed, if I go straight down. That's going to be a really tight fit, but it's still better than nothing. "_Defodio._" The hardest part of this spell is probably the concentration needed to form the tunnel. In theory, you have to know what the material you're going through is like and visualize where the tunnel is going and what it's supposed to look like. That's a lot to keep in mind for one spell. I'm only twelve! I'm pleasantly surprised how well it turned out. Now to conceal the openings. I think something subtle, like the barrier at the train stations. Still, even with that, it wouldn't hurt to put up a muggle repelling charm - a little extra protection. "_Repello muggletum._"

With my work finally done, I picked up one of my text books and lazily leafed through the pages, skimming through the information with little interest. A half finished essay was folded neatly in the back cover of the book, something I started writing on the trip back.

Earth-shattering footsteps vibrated through the floor as Vernon came up the stairs. He was followed shortly by his wife who called downstairs, "Duddykins, it's time for bed!"

I lay in bed, reading Barron's The Lost Years of Merlin, listening to the soft, defined ticking of the clock hands. It took the muggles two hours and forty-six minutes to finally go to sleep, and since then I'm sure Harry has discovered the new addition to his err... room. Slipping from my plush bed, I stand before the concealed tunnel entrance in the wall and push a single hand through. It's kind of like the entrance to Diagon Alley, with plaster and drywall instead of brick and steel, but that is merely aesthetic. A whispered "Lumos" passes my lips and in an instant the tunnel is lit with the soft blue glow wand-light.

Careful not to make a sound, my socked feet pad across the steep, downward sloped, wood-planked floor as I make my way to his cupboard. Maybe I should have considered a ladder? "Harry?" I call, poking my head through his side of the tunnel wall. He turns over on the mattress, flinging out a hand to grab his glasses and shove them to his face. He blinks and then his eyes widen before I see his cute little face light up in an excited smile. "Come on, up to my room. Don't worry, _they're _asleep."

"How did you...?"

"Magick." I grin, grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "How would you like to visit Mascow? St. Petersburg? I have a friend in Germany, we could see Berlin or Munich maybe?"

"I'll go anywhere with you." Such a sweet thing to say.

"Trust me that much, do you?"

From my perifials, I see him nod his head as we make our way up to my bedroom, "You're the only one here who hasn't hurt me." I grip his hand in mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. My heart aches.

It's only after we're sitting on my large bed that I notice again how baggy his clothing is, although, he isn't as scrawny as he was this past summer before school started. Other than that, he hasn't changed a bit. Hair just as messy, the perpetual bedhead, tan skin from hours of outdoor labor - forced or otherwise. Thankfully, it is winter and that means no yard work for him in the morning, except maybe shoveling the driveway. Well, so much for leaving for Russia at sunrise.

He fell asleep nestled in my arms, wrapped in the (our? What a nice thought...) thick blanket. The alarm clock beside my bed sounded at five that morning. I got up, tucking the blanket in around Harry and let him continue resting. I picked out a pair of black slacks and a button-down, purple and black verticle-striped dress shirt from my dresser and tip-toed to the bathroom to dress and brush my teeth. When I got back, Harry was sitting up in bed, wearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Get dressed, we have to work out some kind of schedule."

He yawned, walked back through the tunnel to his cupboard and came back in less than ten minutes. He was in a faded red flanel shirt and baggy jeans, using two belts to hold them up. "What are we going to do?" Harry's voice was quiet, just above a whisper.

"Vernon has to work today, and Petunia wants to take me shopping. She'll probably take Dudley-the-Dunce with us and you'll end up staying here to do chores. So nothing new," I shrugged, "but tomorrow they're going to a Christmas party at Vernon's boss' house or something. Anyway, Dudley is staying with Piers and I thought we could use the day to check out my place."

"The one in Russia? Y-you really meant it? You're going to take me there with you?" A hopefull glow lit his emerald eyes when he glanced up at me through those long, dark lashes.

"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

A few hours later, Petunia, Dudley and I were buckling our seat belts and heading to London. As expected, Harry had been left a list of chores on the refrigorator door to finish before we got back and Vernon was already at work. We stopped at Pall Mall. Petunia dropped me off at Waterstone's, it's the largest bookstore in Europe, and the owner is a friend of hers. She took Dudley with her to Berry Bros & Rudd (a wine emporium) down the street to pick up an order for the Christmas party. "A gift for the host" she says; read: A bribe for a promotion. She promised to buy Dudders a basket of chocolates from Prestat if he behaved. I left Waterstone's later that day with an armload of books from their music and psychology sections.

The next day, after Vernon and Petunia had left to finish preparing for the party and Dudley had gone to his friend's house, Harry and I walked down the street and I called the Knight Bus to take us to the Leaky Couldron. We would floo from there to my manor.

Fortunately, we would be able spend the night there without problems. The muggles had decided to rent a room at a bed and breakfast within walking distance of the party so they wouldn't be driving home drunk and Dudley would be staying overnight with Piers, too.


End file.
